Crash and Burn
by Tomaka
Summary: An exploration crew is left marooned when their ship crashes into the Earth. Injured and homeless with no rescue coming, they turn to Bulma and Trunks to help get them home.
1. Prologue

Hello and welcome to my humble little DBZ story. This story has been floating about in my head for many years, and it's just recently I've decided to put words to paper. I originally posted a story along the same lines under a different username, but I was never pleased with it so now it sits abandoned in cyberspace.

Please enjoy and leave a review!

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**Crash and Burn**

**Prologue**

"Dropping to sub-luminous speeds in fifteen." The smooth, deep male voice of her pilot rumbled through the internal communications system. Blinking and sitting straighter in her captain's chair she pulled herself out of her boredom-induced haze.

"Good." She sounded abrupt, official, militaristic. Swiveling in her chair she faced the screen. Threads of multicoloured light streamed outwards from the center of the viewer, casting eerie rainbow shadows across the bridge.

"Coming out of super-luminal in five, four, three, two, one. Dampeners firing an—" Just as the rainbow light was fading to show a small blue planet, the pilot's voice was cut off in a spit of static as the entire ship jolted sharply.

Before she could even utter a yelp of surprise, she was flung out of her seat, toppling head over heel toward the screen. It shattered on impact, her body hitting with enough force to send her rebounding. In a shower of glass she smashed to the floor, the air long since knocked from her lungs. "Wha—what happened?" She gasped from beneath the broken viewer, slivers of glass coating with blood as it dripped from her.

"Debris field!" He yelled through the comm, frantic as klaxons blared and red lights pulsed.

"But there's nothing charted her-"

"Engines failing! Losing systems across the grid. I have to put us down!" After a short, desperate clamber she stumbled back into her chair. Smoke began seeping into the room as power conduits sizzled and burnt.

"Find a good landing zone. Away from populated areas." She said with a strained voice. Without the view screen she was left blind.

"Already on it. There's a good spot on the northern hemisphere. Adjusting course." The ship groaned and banked to the side. The floor vibrated violently as the vessel entered the first layer of the atmosphere. If she could see the exterior, she'd see the broad metal nose begin to glow red as torrents of flame shot across the hull. "Brace for impact! This is gonna hurt." The pilot warned, voice taut.

She did as she was told, sinking her fingers into the arm of her shaking chair, feet firmly planted, ready to absorb the impact.

But the crash was too sudden, too strong. Again she was tossed, flailing, into the head of the bridge. The crack of her skull against the bulkhead brought darkness to the corners of her vision and she moaned. Above her the walls buckled and ruptured as the ship crashed into the small blue planet. She attempted to climb to her feet as the metal around her screeched and collapsed. After only a few steps she was crushed to the ground by a section of the broken ceiling. White pain shot up through her shoulder and a strangled cry erupted through her gritting teeth.

Around her the ship reduced itself to shrapnel and debris, but it quieted as the downed vessel lost its momentum and came to a halt.

"Sularon?" She asked, voice strained in pain. Black crept into her sight as the warmth of blood spread over her chest.

"Main power, offline. Life support, offline. Hull fractures detected. Emergency shutdown initiated." The voice of the pilot was far away as the last of her vision receded into blackness and she drifted away into unconsciousness.

* * *

Her head was killing her and she could taste the metallic tang of blood on her lips. A groan erupted from her throat as she tried to roll onto her back, but it was reduced to a breathless gasp as pain seared its way across her body.

"Morning," He said, voice sounding tinny and faint. "Still in one piece?" Her body was shaking and she looked down at the source of her agony. A slim piece of jagged metal punctured through her shoulder, pinning her face down against the floor. Fingers gingerly touched the fresh wound and then the metal responsible for it.

"Ah!" She yelped as she braced her free arm against the offending debris and heaved. The pain was unfathomable and it made her yearn for the peace of unconsciousness. She almost gave into the blackness again, but the wet sound of blood on metal forced her to concentrate. With a loud cry and a thunderous clang she was free, blood oozing freely from the hole in her shoulder.

"How bad is it?" Sularon asked, voice deep with concern.

"I'll survive." She said through gritted teeth. "How long was I out?" She grimaced at the blood coating her torso.

"Not long. Ten minutes or so." He sounded pained.

"Are you alright?" She forced herself into a sitting position despite the darkness in her vision. Smoke left the air hazy and thick and it stunk of burning metal and ozone.

"Not really. I can't see and...I'm numb. I can't feel anything." The pilot sounded much more calm than she would have expected. "The impact crippled us. Hull fractures reported in most sections. Half of the tail is gone, and the right engine is somewhere three miles behind us." Sularon's voice cut out momentarily.

"Can we put out a distress beacon?" The wound in her shoulder pumped out fresh blood as she pulled herself to her unsteady feet, ducking under the cloud of smoke. She choked on a breath and covered her face with her elbow, stumbling through the debris to reach a clearer area.

"Communications are offline." The pilot's voice grew quieter the longer he spoke. "I'm going to be gone soon…"

"Sularon? Focus for a few more seconds." She said, sounding slightly more frantic. Walking took a lot more effort than she was prepared for, and she staggered through the doorway.

"I'll...I'll try. I don't have much left."

"I'm coming to get you. I'll be there soon." The corridor was dim and full of debris, making walking more difficult than it already was. The walls were crumpled and whole sections of floor had caved way.

"Xeex, I can't...oh...no." His weak voice went silent. She yelled his name to the ceiling, waiting for a reply. But the only the fizzling crackle of fire and whining scream of metal answered.

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If you like it so far, please let me know by leaving a review. The next chapter will be up in a few days, so keep checking back. Cheers!


	2. Chapter 1 Meeting

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ, nor do I own any of its characters. All other characters were created by me.

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**Chapter 1 - Meeting**

The water tasted foreign and metallic, but she welcomed the soothing cool fluid as it slipped down her throat. The puncture wound on in her shoulder still throbbed and ached when she moved, and she had rigged herself up a makeshift sling, but at least it was healing.

It had taken her a week of scrounging through her damaged ship to determine that she didn't have the necessary supplies to repair the communications system. She needed to launch a distress beacon, but none of the devices in the cargo bay had survived the crash.

Her pilot had been buried in rubble deep in the core of the ship, where he operated. She'd fought to get to him, hoping he could be saved, but she was too late. In her injured state she had done what she could to pull him free, and then bundled up his lifeless remains and placed them safely in an undamaged compartment. Without her pilot she was alone and without the mechanical and technical expertise needed to repair the more vital components of their ship. And until she could send up a beacon, she was stranded on the small blue planet.

The waitress handed her the phonebook she'd requested, having originally given her a strange look when she'd referred to it as a 'services directory'.

"Primitive," She muttered, smoothing her short grey hair back as she flipped the paper book open. It took a few pages for her to figure out that the majority of listings were for individuals, and not 'services'. "Inefficient."

But at the back of the directory she found what she was looking for. Scanning through the lists of businesses, she searched for ones that specialized in electronics repair, metal fabrication, and dealt in raw supplies. With a pen, she jotted the appropriate contact information down on a scrap of paper. She would have preferred a holographic recorder for her notes, but when she'd asked for one she had been greeted with another puzzled stare.

Rising from her seat, she thanked the waitress and left, paper in hand.

* * *

_**Two hours later**_

"You want a _what_?" The burly man's grey, curly eyebrows pulled together.

"Forty zettawatt transmitter." She said, unsure why she had needed to repeat herself.

"And it's for _what_?" He scratched his rounded abdomen, leaning over the counter.

"Super-luminal communications." Wheezing laughter coughed up his throat.

"Darlin', I have no idea what that is, and even if I did I can tell ya we don't carry it." She nodded and glanced at her paper, mentally crossing Conrad & Sons Appliance Repair off her list. It was the fifth one she'd visited, and none of the previous businesses had resulted in the required components.

"Have these?" She asked, pulling a silver, half-inch thick, calculator-sized rectangle from her pocket. A round button was positioned on one of the elongated edges, and she pressed it with a thumb. Abruptly, the end of the rectangle glowed a vibrant orange and blue electricity erupted in an arc from the same edge. The large man reeled back.

"What the hell is that?" His mustache bobbed as he spoke.

"Power cell. Need twenty." With another click of the button the arcing stopped and she placed the cell back in her pocket. He shook is big head.

"Sorry, darlin'. I've no idea where you'd find somethin' like that." She nodded.

"Garnered as much. Thank you." A quick spin of her heel and she was out the door.

Once on the sidewalk, she stopped. A lingering look up to the sky, followed by a glance at her paper, and she was off again.

* * *

_**One hour later**_

Capsule Corp may not have been as impressive as it once was, and she was forced to work out of her old beaten warehouse with outdated machinery, but Bulma was proud of it. She didn't need complicated robotic equipment and expensive diagnostic machinery to do her job. With only a simple set of tools, an oil-stained pair of coveralls and her intuition, she'd kept the company in business through the rough times.

But the economy was dead in the aftermath of the Androids. No one could afford a capsule car, and even if they managed to scrounge up enough funds, it was all better spent elsewhere. Nations of the world were focused on rebuilding. Cities, houses, infrastructure, _that _was where the money was needed. So Capsule Corp had fallen to the wayside, working simply as a small repairs shop. Not that Bulma really cared; she still had enough savings to keep her and her son living happily. Besides, she liked this simpler life.

Now if only she could remember where she'd left that spanner.

Scratching her head, Bulma rose to her feet and looked around her expansive workshop. Parts and wires were strewn everywhere, the mess made only worse by the hoards of coffee-stained mugs, takeout containers, dirty dishes, and bar wrappers.

"Oh come on, I just had it." She mumbled, stepping over her latest project. After nearly tripping over another invention she'd abandoned two days ago, Bulma found her beloved spanner hiding beneath the day's newspaper. "Gotcha."

As she maneuvered her way back to her current project, the cheery electronic jingle of the front door chimed. Leaving the tool on her workbench, Bulma wandered out to the foyer that served as Capsule Corp's delivery/waiting room/customer service desk. A young woman, in her mid-twenties Bulma guessed, stood off to the side studying one of the old Capsule Car posters.

"Hello. How are you today?" She greeted the stranger, smiling kindly as she wiped her blackened hands off on a stained towel. The grey-haired woman pulled her eyes from the poster and walked to the desk.

"Agreeable condition, but need electrical components." Her answer struck Bulma as odd, but a paying customer was always welcome.

"I'm sure I can get you what you need. What sorts of parts are you looking for?" She pulled out a pen and pad of paper and prepared to write.

"Forty zettawatt transmitter." Bulma stared at her for a moment.

"Can you say that again please?" She asked, attempting to write the part down.

"Forty zettawatt transmitter." The customer repeated. The pen was placed back on the desk as Bulma fixed her with a skeptical eye.

"Forty zettawatts? My dear, I don't know where you've been hiding out, but the highest transmitters manufactured are just a few hundred megawatts. And unless you're trying to broadcast your radio talk show to a planet thirty stars over, you don't need that much power." Grey eyes blinked a few times.

"Planet aiming for further away. Sixty-five systems." Her abrupt, broken sentences sounded funny but there was no joke; the woman had no humour written on her face. Bulma stared, brow furrowed.

"You can't be serious." She said finally.

"Am. And need power cells. Twenty." The stranger said, pulling the silver, rectangle from her pocket. Abruptly, the end of the rectangle glowed a vibrant orange and blue electricity erupted in an arc from the same edge. When the miniaturized lightning was shut off, she placed the flattened box on the desk. Bulma let her eyes run over it, but didn't touch it.

"Where'd you get that?" She asked, more fascinated than she let on.

"Power cell. On space vessel."

"You can't be serious." Bulma said again, still staring at the power cell.

"Am." The customer said slowly, ensuring that she was not misinterpreted.

"And you _have _one of these space vessels?" There was a slow nod.

"Do, but broken. Stuck on your planet. Need parts." Bulma tore her eyes from the power cell to look at her. Bulma didn't know if the customer was crazy, she was crazy, or they'd both gone crazy.

"_My_ planet? Don't you mean _our_ planet?" She asked carefully.

"No. Your planet, not mine." The grey-haired young woman was growing impatient. Bulma's patience was being tested as well; trying to understand her sentences was difficult.

"So you're an alien." Bulma stated, still skeptical.

"Official term 'offworlder'." Grey eyes narrowed. "Have parts? Or look other place?"

"Lady," Bulma laughed, shaking her head. "Neither of what you're asking for even exists on this planet. This ship of your — if it really exists — is going nowhere fast." The stranger stared at her for a long time, blinking.

"No parts on planet? Sure?"

"Positive. You're looking at one of the most technically savvy people in the world, and I'm nowhere near making anything for that kind of space travel." Bulma added a note of continuing skepticism to her voice.

"Ah…" She said after a several seconds. "Disappointing." The colour in her face faded slightly and her eyes became distant with thought, though Bulma could also see despair looming. Taking a step back, she sunk into a nearby chair, leaving the power cell on the desk.

Bulma wasn't quite sure what to say, and instead of making the awkward situation worse with a half-meant apology, she looked at the power cell. It certainly didn't look like some sort of alien device. The shining silver exterior was probably just chrome plating or a glossy coat of paint, and the arcing electricity could easily be produced with a few high-powered batteries. It left no reason to believe that the woman was actually in possession of alien technology.

To assure herself that it was a fake, Bulma plucked the cell of the table and flipped it over in her hand. It felt light in her hand, making her question the idea of batteries, but she dismissed it before it became a definite reason to believe the stranger. Her reflection stared back at her through the metal plating. Holding it out, she pressed the button and watched the electricity jump from the orange glowing end. She assured herself that she could have made the same thing in just a few minutes in her workshop. It was easy stuff really.

But then she noticed a thin line warping her reflection. Upon closer inspection, Bulma noticed the line ran across the rectangular face of the supposed power cell, and then down the edge. It looked like a seam to her, and curiously she pushed against the plate to see what would happen.

With a high-pitched _clink_ the face of the power cell slid forward half an inch and Bulma pulled it off. What lay beneath the plate left her dumb and awestruck.

A packet of pearlescent fluid inside the chrome casing flowed from side to side, the liquid seemingly drawn toward the yellowed light of the room. As Bulma leaned in closer, rainbow light began pluming out of the case, flooding the air with colour. Several long seconds of complete wonderment passed before she finally snapped the lid back on the container, ceasing the majestic blooms of brilliance.

Grabbing the power cell in her hand, Bulma rushed around the desk and dropped to her knees in front of the stranger.

"Where…" She gasped, "Did you get this?" The grey-haired woman looked at her numbly, and then at the power cell clutched in Bulma's fingers.

"Ship."

"And where did your ship come from?" She pressed, knuckles whitening as she held the cell tighter.

"Not here," The woman murmured. Bulma nodded slowly.

"Where's your ship now?" The customer pulled another item from her coat pocket. This one was shaped similarly to the power cell, but with one face occupied by a digital screen.

"There." She held the device out for Bulma to see. It was a detailed satellite image of the Earth, with a dot flashing over their current location, and another dot — this one solid — situated in the Arctic Circle.

"Can I see it?"

"Why? You not have parts." Bulma met her eye and grinned.

"My girl, don't underestimate the power of the proper motivation." The customer blinked. Bulma rose to her feet and placed her hands on her hips. "Why don't you come in for something to drink?"

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I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. There is plenty more to come, and I will update soon. Cheers!


	3. Chapter 2  Meet and Greet

Disclaimer: I don't own anything remotely related to DBZ. But all original characters are mine. Enjoy!

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Chapter 2: Meet and Greet

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"What's your name?" Bulma asked, pouring steaming dark tea into two well-used mugs.

"Xeexru," Said the woman as she accepted her cup of tea.

"And you're not from Earth?" She inquired, sipping from her mug.

"No." After testing the astringent liquid, Xeexru stirred in a little milk. "Not believe me?" Bulma shook her head, smiling gently.

"I didn't at first, but that...power cell of yours was very convincing."

"Strange," She took another testing sip of her tea. "Not extraordinary."

"It is to me. Do you know how it works?"

"Do not know the technical details, but know that power made by bioluminescent lifeform." Bulma toyed with the handle on her mug for a moment.

"What happened to your ship? Did you crash?"

"Yes. Very bad."

"How did it happen?"

"Left super-luminal speed, hit debris field near planet. Crippled ship. He tried landing. Crashed." Nodding, Bulma took a sip of her tea.

"Who's the 'he' you're referring to?"

"Oh…" Xeexru pulled her lips tight and looked at the brown liquid in her cup. "Sularon. Pilot. Not survive the crash."

"I'm sorry," Bulma murmured sincerely.

"Without him, no hope of repairing ship."

"You know, I'm reasonably familiar with starships. I built one myself a few decades back." Toying with the handle on her mug, Xeexru blinked and looked at the blue-haired woman curiously.

"Interplanetary craft?" Bulma shook her head and leaned back in her seat, one arm coming to dangle from the chair back.

"No, I built it for a...team of sorts that needed to get to a planet called Namek."

"Were successful?" Bulma's grin stretched wider. "Impressive for planet with primitive technology."

"I have a time-machine I designed and built as well, so I wouldn't say we're that primitive." Xeexru's eyebrows rose slightly under grey bangs.

"Time travel outlawed for centuries. But...certainly remarkable feat." She paused, and eyed the woman carefully. Running a finger along the ring of her mug she squinted slightly, took a breath, and then asked; "How you with computers?"

"Oh, very good." Azure hair bobbed with a confident nod. Xeexru considered this for a long time.

"Have one. Disabled in crash. You like to see it?" Bulma grinned again.

They made the arrangements over another cup of tea. Bulma would use one of her flying transports to carry them both to the Arctic Circle, retrieve the damaged computer, and return home to attempt repairs. In the meantime, Xeexru had been invited — if rather forcefully — to stay the night.

"What's the computer used for?" Bulma asked, stirring the steaming pot on the stove.

"Navigation, information storage, internal functions. Essentially core of the ship." Xeexru answered, sitting idly but stiffly in a chair at the dinner table. "Repairs to ship must start with computer if to have success elsewhere."

"What sort of state is your ship in? I might be able to help you with some onsite repairs when we get there." The concoction in the pot smelled of carrots and celery, and Bulma added some potatoes.

"Severe damage. Broke apart upon impact. But if you fix central computer, rest of ship might not matter." Bulma bobbed her head in understanding.

"Is that how you injured your arm? In the crash?" Xeexru looked down at her sling and nodded.

"Impaled by debris." She pointed to her shoulder, and Bulma grimaced.

"I can take a look at that as well, if you like. I'm a decent doctor when I have to be." They both turned at the sound of a door closing.

"Hey Mom." His voice carried through the house easily, and Xeexru could hear his footsteps as he padded near.

"Hi Trunks. Did you get the message I sent you?" The purple-haired man entered the room, arms laden with large paper bags. "Oh good! And you got chicken, right?"

"Yep, just like you asked. Seems like a bit much though, don't you think?" Xeexru remained silent as he planted the bags on the counter.

"We have some company for dinner tonight." Bulma nodded in the direction of their guest and Trunks turned, seeing her for the first time.

"Oh, hello." He smiled and gave a short wave amidst his unloading of the first bag.

"This is my son, Trunks. Trunks, this is Xeexru." Bulma motioned to her son with a stew-covered wooden spoon, sends droplets of thick goo falling to the floor.

The guest nodded curtly and stayed seated.

"She's quite the young lady. You should see the gizmo she brought in. Exciting stuff." Trunks glanced between his mother and the woman sitting at the table.

"Oh yeah?"

"And tomorrow we're going to fly up to her ship to pick up a few things. I'd like you to come along. We might need a heavy lifter." He blinked for a moment.

"Um...what?"

"Space ship damaged when entered orbit around planet. Attempted to land. We crashed. I came here to get supplies for necessary repairs." Trunks stayed silent and still.

"Okay. I didn't see that coming." He muttered finally.

"Xeexru said she's got a computer she wants me to look at, so we're going to pick it up and bring it here." Bulma explained, stirring the pot.

"Transporting it is sensitive ordeal. You have appropriate vehicle to transport it?" Xeexru asked.

"Of course. We can leave to get it in the morning. The flight there should only be a few hours."

"Sounds ideal." Xeexru took another sip of her tea, no more relaxed.

* * *

Bulma served the meal. A simple chicken stew with bread. Hardly extravagant, but no one complained.

"So...where are you from?" Trunks asked, taking a bite from some stew-sodden bread. The tone of his voice did not hide his skepticism.

"Two planets. Klintorn and Tomakacara." Xeexru seemed to enjoy the meal, eating heaping spoonfuls.

"Why two?" Bulma asked.

"Born on Klintorn. Planet destroyed. Lived on Tomakacara instead." She poured herself a fresh glass of water from the pitcher.

"Destroyed? How?" Trunks inquired, feeling a touch more sympathetic.

"Solar flare. Huge flare. Destroyed atmosphere and made hostile."

"And that's when you moved to Tomaka—" Bulma had forgotten the name of the planet already.

"Tomakacara. Tomakas saved many Klints. Moved them to Tomakacara."

"These Tomakans—"

"Tomakas." Xeexru corrected through a mouthful of soggy bread.

"They sound like very good people, to have saved you." Bulma said.

"Not people. Tomakas. Different than us." She spun a pointing finger, indicating the three of them. "But yes, very good. Peacekeepers. Very powerful and smart. Kind."

"What do you mean 'different than us'?" Trunks asked.

"Bigger and stronger. Not bipedal." It wasn't much of a description, but neither Bulma nor Trunks pressed it.

"Ah…" Bulma murmured, as if understanding. "So why did you come to Earth?" Xeexru swallowed another spoonful of stew before answering.

"I was charting the system. The Tomakas' maps were outdated, and I was responsible for charting this quadrant." Trunks and Bulma paused and stared at her.

"Your speech just...changed." Bulma said carefully. Xeexru blinked.

"It did? I wasn't aware of that. It what manner did it change?"

"A minute ago you couldn't form a proper sentence, but now…" The blue-headed woman explained.

"The translation chip in my brain requires prolonged exposure to a language before it's able to translate effectively. It must have finally acquired your language and altered my speech accordingly." The two stared at her for a few more seconds.

"Translation chip?" Bulma wondered.

"Tomaka technology implanted directly in the brain." With her hand shaped like a gun she pointed to her temple.

"I really need to meet those guys." Bulma murmured, and Xeexru nodded.

"I'm sure they would find your species fascinating, though they consider most fleshlings like you and I to be food. I would advise caution during first contact." The comment promptly caused Trunks and Bulma to stop eating.

"Food?" Trunks seemed unimpressed by the idea.

"Yes. First contact between the Klints and the Tomakas resulted in the Tomakas feasting on an entire Klint village. It made for many years of tense relations, but they've since moved passed that unfortunate event." Xeexru seemed unfazed and scrapped the last of the stew from her bowl.

"Yum." Bulma muttered, and then laughed lightly. "Giant, non-humanoid, super advanced, peacekeeping aliens that want to eat us. Fabulous."

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Thanks for reading! The next chapter will be up in a few days! Cheers!


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